


The Colors I See and How I Came To See Them

by SegantEnfield



Series: The reincarnation of soulmates [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Im sorry to the whole cast, LGBTQ Themes, Lafayette made them do it, Local author needs a nap, M/M, Marijuana, Messy group of babies, Multi, Poly people with a complicated list of soulmates, Polyamory, Sex, Some of this is based off history rather than broadway, This is part one, This is starting to look like everyone/everyone, Well ain't this a clustefuck, most of them are poly, told by the writings of the people in the group who lived past 1804
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegantEnfield/pseuds/SegantEnfield
Summary: The revolutionary set lived their first life loving many people, making mistakes, and fighting for a better world. Six of the group remain alive in the early 1800's and Lafayette asks that they all write down an account of their love lives and soulmates to be kept unopened like a time capsule and then published in approximately 200 years. They hope the writings will be read by a more tolerant world.





	1. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette

**Author's Note:**

> I'm segant-enfield.tumblr.com and I would appreciate any feedback if you'd like to give it. Thank you very much for reading this mess and I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis de Lafayette sat down to write about his experience with love.

We are all aware of the conditions we humans must meet to see color. We are born into a gray world. It is only when fate graces us with our soulmates that we are granted color. Having a soulmate is, in my experience, exhilarating. They make your pulse hasten and your pupils dilate and they are a necessity in your life once you've found them. The very idea of losing them would tighten your throat and make your eyes sting. Like most people I have seen every color. Unlike most people, however, I don't see all of them anymore, but still some remain. 

As I write this I can see purple, yellow, and I can differentiate between cold and warm grays. This strikes many people as strange but the explanation is just that I have multiple soul mates. Fewer, now, than I used to have. This leads me to the purpose of these writings. There are invisible strings like spider's silk connecting me and many others together. The kind of bond people feel when they are reincarnated as a group, together in every life. The surviving people in my particular web of soul tethers and bonds and I thought it might be best to write our story. If our instructions are followed, this collection of writings will be published for all in around 200 years. We pray the world is more prepared for our truths when that time comes. We hope to live again near the time of the publication.

I saw no color before Orange. It was a strange circumstance involving my late wife. At the time we were both no older than fifteen. We had known eachother for years, each of them spent in a gray world. This is strange because in most cases, color is seen at the moment of first eye contact. We had been sitting in a tree we had climbed against the will of my grandmother, watching the grays in the sky change as the sun lowered behind a mountain. My Adrienne leaned her head upon my shoulder and I realized I had a deep adoration for her. I felt that no friends could ever be as dear, and as I felt that, I saw the color fade into the sunset. We had both stared at the sky in wonderment, teary-eyed and affectionate. We knew it was rare for a color to reveal itself at some time other than the first eye contact. The only instances this occurred were with friends who were made for eachother. From me, she had gotten the color red, which caused her to remark upon my passion and love for romance. She called it my gift to her and thanked me every day. In turn I thanked her for the sunset she allowed me every time I was a able.

The next time I received any colors was overwhelming to say the least. The revolution had begun in America and I had recently arrived to help liberate the country. I found a pub in New York with wonderful wine. It became crowded even faster than I became inebriated. Every attempt to order a fifth large glass of wine was a horrid failure. I couldn't remember the English word for wine so I repeated my order to myself in my native tongue in an attempt to assist my memory. Thankfully, a man next to me at the bar knew French and ordered the drink for me. When our eyes met I saw the green in the world. Ironically he wore no green and his eyes were colorless. He was gorgeous, even in the gray scale I viewed him in. His skin held a nights sky of stars, constellations I didn't recognize but I prayed I'd learn of them. His hair was tied back, dark, and curly. He had a wide, sly smile, a face I fell for immediately. By the awed way he regarded me, I knew he saw a change in his vision.we introduced ourselves, I learned his name was John Laurens.

John and I spoke an hour of the night away. We could have spoken for longer, but two gentlemen entered the pub engaged in rather boisterous conversation. The sound of them drew my attention, and John's as well. At the same time we gasped and Held eachothers hands as more colors were revealed to us. The two men who came in were gorgeous. One small, with fire in his eyes, the other, tall and strong. They gave me blue and yellow respectively, granting me a fuller sky. We did not stay in the bar for long, as the four of us had much to discuss. We went to the inn I was staying in to learn of eachother. The man with eyes of fire was named Alexander Hamilton, and the tall man bears the name Hercules Mulligan. John wanted to study biology, and he had wonderful sketches of turtles. Hercules was a tailor's apprentice, who sewed attractive britches. Alexander was a law student, passionate in every action. All four of us wanted to join the revolution and abolish slavery.

We had few disagreements, but those few were easily defused by a long embrace, and soon after, with the courage of our dear John, kissing. 

It was our first night together when he kissed Alex. From then on we were all much bolder. We made love often and we fell for eachother quickly. We helped eachother figure out what colors we still lacked. I was without gold, silver, red and purple. I never found red, it's possible I will die this life without ever seeing it. I only hope that I'll know that love by the time I'm this age in my next life. 

A month after I met him, Alexander met his college roommate. He brought him to the bar we always met in to introduce him to us. He was even shorter than Alex, and he had blonde curly hair, gray eyes and freckles on his naturally flushed cheeks. His name is Robbert Troupe. He was nervous the whole time we spoke with him but the four of us found him completely charming. There was a certain draw John, Alex, and I felt towards him. We brought him back to my inn room and we talked more there. It was only after he and Alex left to head to sleep that I realized. John and I pointed out that we could finally tell what was meant to be gray and what was just the absence of color. The buttons on his waistcoat shone silver like never before. We could tell if a gray was cool or warm in tone. Robbert gave three of us silver. 

He had been nervous because he saw color for the first time that day. Blue and purple from Alex. Green and yellow from John. Red and orange from me and his spectrum was complete. 

Unfortunately we hid the truth from him for years. He always spoke of how he was sure there was no soulmate for him. Over time he admitted that it was a better fate than he expected. You see, people like us who love the same sex are in danger. The future he expected was death. We had all heard of men who killed their soulmates. Too devout in their worships and accepting of the hateful teachings to allow themselves to be bound to another man in such a way.

The truth of it is, the universe is not always just. Not every soul is reincarnated. Not every bond is mutual. And not every romance survives. 

Little Robbie was so assured in his assumption that he'd never be loved or held or kissed because he couldn't find it in himself to love a woman that we became more and more hesitant to tell him. John understood more fully than Alex or myself. He could only find men attractive in the way one must find a lover attractive, just like Robbert. Alex and I were different. We could love a woman just as easily as a man.

We did tell Robbert eventually. It was after the surgeons pulled a musket ball out of my leg. I had been delirious from the pain and the alcohol I was given to fight it. I suppose George couldn't stand the tension any longer. George asked me to list my soulmates. Robbert heard his own name and I'm told the sweet boy fainted. When he awoke, we sat him down with us. Hercules have us privacy to discuss our deep love for Robbert and talking soon changed to clumsy sex in the infirmary. 

I should tell you of George. You know of him, by the time this writing is published he should still be fresh enough history to still influence America, if not the world. I speak, of course, of George Washington. Alex and I met him together after we joined the continental army and we both saw gold. More than that, we both knew he saw color from us as well. The issue was, he ignored it. He was our commanding officer, and quite against coupling between ranks. 

Young and attractive as we were, the best plan we could come up with involved seduction. We noticed he had a habit of entering our tent without knocking, so we decided clothes were unnecessary within our walls. We kissed with any opportunity, touching eachother and making love when we knew he'd need to fetch us from our tent to assist him in the war. 

It worked. His eyes always lingered. Still, it took two years for us to get him to speak with us and admit he loved and wanted us. 

He told us stories of the two lives he had lived before this one. He and his wife Martha has been together since their first life in the Roman Empire. 

Throughout the war, we met so many wonderful people. Alex found a wife. Her name is Eliza and she brought light into our lives. I never received a color from her but it never stopped me from loving her dearly. She was glad to be part of our complicated love. She once called it a beautiful tangled web of soul bonds. 

Though most of us are new souls living our first lives, we can tell we'll be together in the next. The same people we hold dear now will be held dear for many reincarnations. Soul bonds can be like the bond between soulmates, or much more subtle. I have found that the easiest way to tell if you're bound to a person is how destroyed you feel when they die. When I learned of the death of my first daughter, I couldn't breathe. I hid all of the pain, however, because foolishly, I believed it was my job to comfort those I held dear. If I was ever unable to smile for them, I'd have failed them.

John died at the end of the war. Hercules, Robbert, Alex and I all watched green drain from the world. 

Losing color, even if it's just one, is losing a piece of your heart, your soul, your life. Trees, grass, even moss never fails to bring tears to my eyes. It's been nearly thirty years since the death of my love and it still tears me apart to not see green. 

I had to come home to France after the war. Adrie helped me, and I wrote letters to my loves in America every week, telling them in as many ways as I could conceive of what I loved about them. 

I didn't exactly look forward to meeting Thomas Jefferson. He owned slaves. Still, so did the man who held me while I lost the color in the grass so I gave him a chance. 

When my eyes met his I saw the vibrant magenta of his suit. 

Our time together was… a helpful distraction from the pain of loss. We smoked cannabis together and fell in love. We told eachother everything. I cried in his arms over Harriette and John. He cried in my arms over Martha. Our children got along and we did wonderful work for France together. 

Still, he was not French. In 1789 he had to leave and return home to America. He was regretful of leaving me, but excited to see his James again. 

I did see them again. They meet my wife and children. My son Georges has only one soulmate and it was Philip Hamilton. It was strange, and slightly uncomfortable because of my relationship with his father, but they were sweet with eachother, and so pure in their youth. Georges stayed in America with his namesake, where he could visit his soulmate. 

I have many regrets. The most troublesome involve being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When Henriette died at two years of age, I was in America while she was in France. When John died I was in the north, while he was in the south. When George died, taking from me the beauty and shine of gold, I was in France. When Alexander died, shot by a friend we had loved, who we welcomed into our bed, I was in France. He was in America and the sky was gone. 

I lost Adrienne as well. As I write, Hercules and Thomas are in declining health and Robbert… Robbert is helping dear Eliza tell Alex's story. 

I'm a world away from my remaining loves and I miss them. 

The point of writing this. I suppose the point is to show that some love stories aren't simple. They aren't always easy or traditional. These complicated, dangerous loves are worth remembering and documenting. I don't truly regret a moment because I fell in love with so many people. 

Some of us are not built for multiple long lives with only one hand to hold. I look forward to being with them again. 

It's only a matter of time.


	2. Elizabeth Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza Hamilton lives in a world without color, but not without love.

Monsieur Lafayette requested that I write down an account of my experience with colors. Seeing as I can not deny that man a thing, I agreed. He assured me that he has set very specific rules and instructions regarding the writings we submit. I've been informed that this passage is for my eyes only until the day it is to be released to the public. The idea of our story being printed and bound in a book is simultaneously exciting and terrifying. We've spent the better part of our lives desperately hiding the truth of our unions. To think we are now writing down the names and most importantly the sexes of our soulmates! We've already lost so much. Perhaps we have nothing more to lose. We will be long gone when these words are read. Perhaps we will be alive again in that time. If the world has not changed, we plan to keep our past identities secret. 

Still, dear Lafayette has a plethora of hope, which is seemingly contagious when I read his letters, and inescapable when I hear his laugh. I haven't seen him in a long time. In my home the is only Hercules, Robert, and myself. The children have gone their own ways. When asked why they live with me, the two men say they wouldn't want the widow of their good friend to be lonely. The secret truth is that we mourn my husband in the same way. Robert and I both have trouble sleeping alone at night, a direct result of our Alexander and his tendency to cling in the night. It's a common theme among the members of this group. I hear even Thomas Jefferson hates to sleep alone. 

I used to be able to sleep in an empty bed. It feels like a lifetime ago. In the winter 1780, I attended a ball. Most of the men in attendance were American soldiers. My late sisters Angelica and Margarita were boldly enjoying the festivities in their own ways. Many young soldiers sought our attention but none of them drew my eyes like Alexander Hamilton. He was small for a man, but the way he stood showed a lion's disposition. Fearless. I had seen him before Angelica, so I leaned close to her go whisper that he would be mine. No sooner than had the words left me, our eyes met. His large brown eyes with long lashes were intense and showed of a gifted mind. I noticed that his coat was blue, and the ribbon in his hair was green. The trouble was I had never seen any color in my life before. I whispered that he was my soulmate but as I looked around I saw only the color in the uniforms, the blue of my dress, the green curtains. The rest of my world remained colorless. 

I stood frozen in shock and confusion, but my dear elder sister moved with purpose and brought him to me. 

Those intense eyes didn't leave me. We attempted small talk but we both knew what we really needed to say to each other. As it was better said in privacy, I lead him outside to a balcony. It was cold but his presence was like welcoming fire that set the snowy world ablaze. I found out that he had a perfectly rational explanation for my incomplete spectrum. He was not my only soulmate. He confessed that I was not his only either, but it gave him an idea. He told me hed introduce me to everyone who gave him color.

Alexander brought me back inside and introduced me to his loves one by one. The first was the Marquis, who was a flirt who brought a flush to my cheek. We enjoyed each other, but no colors were revealed to either of us. Next was John Laurens and Hercules Mulligan, who were getting drunk in a secluded corner. Again, an enjoyable conversation, but no soulmates. After them was little Robert Troup who was shy, but insisted I call him Robbie. A sweet man but no colors. Once I was sure I had met them all, Alexander began leading me to a sizable group, all eagerly listening to every word of none other than George Washington himself. I expected Alex to retrieve a person from the crowd, but the incredibly tall general saw Alexander and excused himself from his conversation. As he walked to us, Alex whispered in my ear that he was his final soulmate. I remember being dazed through our whole conversation. The general complimented me, and commented that a wedding should be soon.

By the end of our all I needed to sit down and recover from the group of attractive men I had met that night. 

Alexander and I wrote to each other often, and the general was right. We were wed soon. During the ceremony, I noticed that each of Alexander's soulmates, and Washington's wife were in attendance. We danced together but I felt the groom should get to dance with all of his loves so I arranged a small gathering of the group outside. I danced with all of them by the end of the night and I nearly cried in joy at being part of a family so loving. 

I didn't get to see John ever again. 

By the end of the war, I had a child and a house full of three men. Robert and Alex finished their law studies together, just as they had started together. We visited Aaron Burr and his Theodosias often and for the most part, life was good. 

Washington asked Alexander to join his administration. My husband came home after the very first meeting angry, but with a new color. He had never seen magenta before that day. The trouble was, he saw the color after glancing into the eyes of Thomas Jefferson, a man he hated before he even met him. 

They fought often. It was rarely violent. Over the course of a month, their feud intensified. Alexander found he enjoyed the way Thomas reacted when he pushed the tall man against a wall. James Madison didn't take it well by the third time Alexander pushed Thomas. That was the only explanation Alexander gave me when he came home with a bruised face. 

Angelica told me she had sent a letter to Lafayette, sure that only he could defuse the situation and prevent a murder. 

As Alexander prepared for a debate on joining the French in war I knew it would come to a boiling point before the Marquis could arrive.

Alexander locked himself in his office at work and didn't come home for three days. But Lafayette went straight to him from the dock when he arrived. 

His wife and daughters came to my house, where they would be staying and that is when I finally received more colors. Adrienne de Lafayette’s eyes brought yellow and purple into my world. The colors of the flowers she brought for the table. 

The two weeks the French family spent with us was a blur of shenanigans (my Phillip and Angie noticed that Gilbert looked exactly like Thomas and convinced them to switch places to confuse Alexander) and love. 

Adrienne was a passionate woman who was more adventurous in her lovemaking than I could ever imagine. She had humor and beauty and left me short of breath and red in my cheeks. 

Unfortunately she couldn't stay forever. I saw her three more times before she passed away, taking her gift of purple and yellow with her. 

There were a few years of my life spent with a complete spectrum. My third and final soulmate came to my door while my husband was hard at work. Her face was gorgeous, her body curvy, and her dress was red. She seemed to forget what she had intended to say upon seeing me, due to the shock of suddenly acquiring the entire cool half of the color spectrum. I invited her inside, where we talked. She told me she had an abusive husband who had forced her to come to my home. He wanted her to bed my husband so that he could blackmail him. She apologised but I assured her it wasn't her fault. Her name was Maria Reynolds and she spent the last of her years in my home. 

Aaron Burr was the lawyer who helped her get a divorce. The last time the Lafayette family visited, we found out that Maria and Adrienne were soulmates as well. 

Alexander was scrutinized for living with two women and two men. Some speculations got dangerously close to the truth. 

Unfortunately my son Philip was speculated upon as well. You see, his soulmate was a boy. Georges Washington de la Fayette, to be exact. They were young and not particularly good at hiding their love in public. 

My boy was shot in a duel because he was raised by a loving group and because he loved his soulmate. 

Alexander was shot in a duel because he voted for Thomas instead of Aaron Burr. Burr was Alexander's oldest friend, and he shot him. 

Maria fell sick, and never recovered. 

My world is gray again. I look forward to our next life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of undisclosed events that will be discussed in part two


	3. Robert Troup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert second guesses every word he writes, but he fallows the instructions his last soulmate gave him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert was the short chubby guy who's jokes cured ailments. He pretty much never stopped supporting Alex

If I didn't trust the Marquis de Lafayette with my life, I wouldn't be writing this. In all honesty I'm not sure why he insisted I should be a part of this. It's clear that I'm not the kind of man history remembers. When this is published I'm sure it will be the first the readers hear of me. Perhaps he doesn't want me to feel left out while Eliza and Hercules write their stories just on the other side of my bedroom walls. He has always been thoughtful. 

On the subject of his thoughtfulness, I am sure he has already explained the purpose of this collection in his own writings, sparing the rest of us that duty. I sincerely apologize if my handwriting becomes illegible. The issue is, the very idea of any number of people reading such intimate thoughts of mine makes me nervous. I also cannot be sure I won't shed tears upon the paper as I write. I know it is silly to cause myself to cry, but there are days where the mere thought of any of my soulmates saddens me to that point. I have only one remaining soulmate, who lives an ocean away. I do love who I live with but none could compare to him. I doubt I'll see him again this life. I only wonder who's life will be extinguished like a candle first. 

I am sorry, I must learn to focus. 

My childhood was 

No, I shouldn't waste your time.

I met Alexander Hamilton when I was in the process of unpacking my belongings in the dorm room we were to share. He walked in, stealing the breath from my lungs with such ease that I suspected people must fall madly in love with him every day. He brought with him the dusk sky. Blues and purples replaced gray. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen and in my shock, I dropped a ledger on my foot. 

I remember the way he looked at me. No disgust, or hatred. No reaction at all, save for obligatory concern for my foot. That alone lifted several pounds from my fearful heart. I was worried, you see, that when I found a man who brought color to my world, he would find out and kill me. 

I was able to convince him that I was just clumsy. My foot was fine. He believed me. 

I don't think we spoke for long before he whisked me away to meet his friends. I had never met a person so eager and open. It was terrible, how quickly I became enamored. I prayed he would show me some terrible side of himself that I could focus on to keep myself from craving his company, but he never did. Instead he showed me three more heavenly men. Hercules was handsome but not a soulmate of mine. John was gorgeous and Fae was beautiful. Seeing those two completed my spectrum and three world was breathtaking. 

They didn't react to me in any concerning way, but I hid the truth from them to be safe. Over the course of that first night, I began to compare the three men who gave me color to Greek gods in my mind. Alexander was Hermes, quick and smart, with a surprising disrespect for the law despite studying it. Fae was Apollo, radiant and poetic. John was Dionysus, the way he made me drunk and giddy with his mere presence. It occurred to me that those three gods would be the best partners in mischief, just as the men were. They were talented and smart and energetic. I was a mortal. I still am. And I knew the duty of a mortal in the presence of gods was to worship. I also knew that as a mortal, I could do nothing to keep from falling in love with handsome gods.

Every day I spent with them, I learned more reasons to love them. They were kind to me, something I had never experienced before. They trusted me. I learned that the four of them were all soulmates. They made an amazing romance. 

I told them everything I could bring myself to tell them. They knew I wanted men. They knew my fears of being fatally rejected. I told them how sure I was that I could never be loved or wanted. 

Alexander and I shared a bed. He couldn't sleep alone and after a month with him, neither could I. Still, there were nights he was absent. A few times, he did not return for a full week. Without someone next to me I'd lose sleep and spend my days tired. Our friend Aaron took notice when I hadn't slept. He knew why without me telling him and he acted as a placeholder. 

I never told Alexander that I wished he would stay. Nevertheless, I heard him and Aaron arguing about it more than once. The only thing I could find out from what I heard was that Aaron thought Alex should stay the nights for my sake, and Alex felt he “simply could not”. 

When the men I loved went to war, I followed. It made Alex angry, knowing I was putting myself in danger,so he avoided me for a month. That was the second time I had witnessed Alex and Aaron argue. 

Fae and John thought Alex shouldn't have been angry with me. They still expressed their displeasure at seeing me in a war. I suspected they wished I stayed at the college so that they could be free of me, so according to my logic I freed them. I masterfully kept myself out of their sight. When I told stories and sang at campfires I made sure to be out of their earshot. In my mind it was what they wanted. It felt wonderful to think I was making them happier, but terrible to be away from them. 

I couldn't conceive of a person enjoying my company. I saw myself as a person they spoke with out of pity. Aaron as well, but I could not quietly remove myself from his life until he found his first soul mate, Charlie. Aaron focused on Charlie, giving me the opportunity to keep my horrid visage from his eyes. 

I accidentally made eye contact with Lafayette. Right before the battle of Brandywine, he looked sad when he saw me. It was later that day when he was shot in the leg. 

During his recovery, I came to visit him at the hospital. The other three were there and they were happy to see me. It was the first time anybody ever reached out to me for an embrace, saying my name like my presence was a relief. I cried before I realized the general was there. I should not have been surprised, three of my friends were his aide de camps. 

At some point, the general began looking at me with strange intensity. He asked Fae, who was delirious, to list his soulmates. 

I still remember the exact order:“ Alex, Johnny, Hercules, Adrienne, George… Robbie” but after hearing my name in the list, there is a gap in my memory.

The next thing I remember was Alex, Fae, and John sitting with me on a set of cots, telling me that I was beautiful. They told me the reason they didn't react immediately upon seeing me was because I only granted them gray and silver. They didn't like it when I said it meant I was a lesser soulmate. They were always too kind to let me speak poorly of myself. That is not to say I don't insult myself constantly. I only learned to keep my critisms private. My avoidance of mirrors upset them, and they never once allowed themselves to be openly disgusted by me, which was sweet but must have taken considerable effort.

A lot happened after that. More battles. Aaron kissed me one drunk night before finding his other soulmate. I befriended Charlie before he was tragically killed. We nearly froze to death at valley forge and that was the first time I saw the general allow Alexander and Fae to show him affection. They convinced him to stay in our tent. It was crowded, as Aaron was there, and Charlie, but it was warm.

When the war was over, I lost green and yellow from my vision and I knew John was gone. I helped Alex and his wife take care of their children and we pretended to be okay. We all still wrote to John, even after he died. We kept the letters in a box where his family couldn't destroy them like many that he had sent. We cried over grass. 

Over twenty years passed, and it felt as though everything conceivable happened in that time. I drew bolder, and I kissed Hercules. We did much more than just kiss from them on. 

I grew so much bolder that when Fae visited and his wife suggested something out of a bacchanal Roman party, I accepted the invitation. Even When Alexander brought Aaron home for it, because he knew I was attracted to him. I did more than kiss a lot of people. 

(God, why did I write that.

Fae asked me specifically to not scratch out anything I write. He wants the first draft. He thinks I edit too much I suppose this is his way of making sure I write from the heart. I love him dearly but I may decide to burn this draft.)

Alexander died in 1804. Our friend Aaron shot him. Aaron tore into my heart and took the sky from me. The worst of it is, I love him too much to still be angry. I just miss Alexander. 

Fuck I really want to burn this, what if he reads it next life?


	4. Hercules Mulligan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules sits at a writing desk letting old drawings bring him old memories

If I understand correctly, little Fae has already written his chapter, and his will be first in the order, so if you're reading this, you've already read his story. I bet he was really sweet in his way of describing us. As wonderful as that will be to read when I'm able, I'm sure he and the others edited out some more intimate details in their storytelling. Considering the fact that you've already read the same story from multiple points of view, you probably already know my story. This is why I'll tell you more about those little details that likely haven't made it onto paper yet.

I don't want to write about the sad times. Nothing about the sad times tells about us as people. What is an important aspect of our love was the way we interacted. The trouble we got into, the silly mishaps, and the funny jokes. If you want to know how we were together, know that we laughed. We laughed more than we cried ave we fucked happily. 

We were wild and free and witty and everything American. We went to parties where no breeches were worn. We stole canons. We planned battles. We fought. We won. We built a nation. We fucked. We lived and we laughed and that is the truth of us. 

It is also the truth that we cried but not as much as we thrived. 

Our love was like any other, only better. 

My part in this love story, of course, started on the same day his did. I met Alex first, then John and Laf. They my entire spectrum. We were young and eager at the time, which is why we seemed to waste no time in finding a bed. It started with embraces, which lead us to join our lips in kisses. After we had kissed, we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves. Alexander and Lafayette were mostly submissive, but they were also adventurous and seductive. John and I were dominant, though John did try submitting much later and he quite enjoyed it. 

I fell in love with them quickly and when I fought, I felt like it was for them. The three of them never stopped amazing me with their abilities and fearlessness. They enraptured me also, with their kindness. Each of them had open hearts. 

Alexander's roommate was very cute. He wore his blonde hair messily tied beck during his studies, which seemed to be the only sign of stress. He smiled easily and told amazing jokes. The drunker we got him, the dirtier his jokes. He had an ass that seemed miraculous in its shapeliness. He was not my soulmate, but he was the soulmate of all the men I loved. I really did wish he was my soulmate, I still do. But back then I wished it just for the chance of bringing the sweet young man to bed. 

John loved turtles. It was silly and endearing, how he would sit by the little beasts to draw them. I once asked why and he told me he thought the reptiles were pretty. Fae, ever fond of posing, asked if he'd draw him sometime, looking pretty. He implied that this drawing need not contain any clothing and that was the beginning of the many nude drawings that seemed to plague general Washington. We all liked to draw each other, but John was the best at it. 

A portion of the drawings of which Fae and or Alex were the subjects found their way to Washington's bedside drawer. This seemed to upset him, despite the fact that he had already seen all that the drawings could show. The more it embarrassed him, the more images were brought to him by two of his mischievous aide de camps. 

When Alexander got married, Laf kissed Eliza on the mouth. She blushed deeply, but admitted that it was very nice and she would like more kisses from him.

Oh, a hilarious story I'm sure you've missed out on: when Adrienne first visited, she and Eliza spoke for hours. During this time, Adrienne learned that Eliza had never had an orgasm. The French woman mocked Alexander for his failures the next morning, stating that she gave it a try and succeeded four times. We all teased poor Hamie for his inexperience with women, even Eliza, until he took his wife upstairs and proved himself. 

By then, Adrienne was determined to fulfill Eliza's fantasies, so she sent the children to be with Jefferson's daughters and gathered us in the livingroom to suggest a complete orgy. This fulfilled a fantasy of Eliza's because she had Fae convince the President, George Washington to join us. You see, she had been hiding attraction for him since the beginning. 

I was very proud of Robbie that day. He and I had started a relationship weeks before, and I was sure he would be too shy to participate. Especially when Alexander brought Aaron Burr home just to see Robbie blush. ( I heard from Alex that he convinced Aaron to attend simply by mentioning that our Robbie would like it if he was there). 

He wasn't entirely confident, but he was bolder than he was when we meet him. Devious little Alex said we should remove our clothes to get comfortable with each other. We all stripped down rather quickly, except for Robbie and Aaron, who were “helping each other”. Sweet Robbie gasped when he so much as touched Aaron's bare chest. It took a long time but it was a sweet moment and the tension made for a sexy sight full of anticipation.  
I once attempted to keep track of who had fucked who I'm the group. I have up halfway through, but it was amusing to see how complex our story is. 

I would like to note that I requested that the drawings be published along with these writings but Eliza denied my request on the grounds that… well I don't remember her argument against it. I assume it amounts to “ The future is not ready for the most arousing sights in history”. It makes sense. Since of these drawings really are too good for any time period. The ones that weren't burned at some point along the way sit upon my desk as I write this, inspiring me. 

Alexander was slight, but gorgeous. He knew he looked amazing she when he posed for a drawing, he liked to touch himself. When John drew him he focused on his rear. Fae posted special attention to Alex's slightly soft torso she thighs. Robbie drew anyone, he focused on the facial expression and their hair.

John was small as well, but his muscles are well defined and we all did our best to draw in all of his freckles. Robbie got carried away drawing his hair when it was braided once. Fae drew pretty water lilies around him. Alex wrote in the margins next to all of his drawings. 

I miss those two.


	5. Thomas Jefferson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas writes about some of his happiest and saddest moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more after this one. I didn't spellchecker, or history check, I'm a lazy boy and it's 2am

I suspect Lafayette knows I will do all that he asks of me. If he asked me to board a ship today and go to him I would. The task he has asked of me is not challenging, in theory. He wants a short autobiography of my experiences with soulmates. Perhaps he has some sort of plot. It is far more likely that he just wants something heartwarming to read in the next life. Memories with tangible documentation. I will admit, the idea of all the world knowing is liberating. 

We will be liberated odd the weight of a deadly secret. Horrifically, the thing that endangers us so it's no more than love. Perhaps more accurately, the danger is potential reactions to love like ours. In this age, few would react kindly to knowing exactly how many of their presidents were sodomites. A loathsome word, but accurate. It's strange to apply that word to me or any of us. I never thought of us like that, except briefly when I was only just discovering my love for a man. 

Before that man was a woman. My late wife Martha was beautiful and witty. Her height allowed me to rest my chin upon her head. We were happily wed and she was everything to me. Still, it was troubling that while I could see pinks and purples, I was without the rest of the spectrum. Most of my vision remained gray and I thought for the longest time that I was simply colorblind. 

Martha and I had two children, two amazing girls named Polly and Mary. Polly was in truth named Martha after her mother, but we rarely called her that. 

I met James Madison at a secret meeting, while the beginnings of a revolution were boiling. I met his eyes and I was surprised by the sudden inclusion of yellow and orange. I didn't expect it from a man. Much less someone so reserved. The vibrant colors seemed juxtaposed against his monotonous fashion sense and quiet attitude. I could tell from his expression that he saw color because of me as well. 

We said nothing to each other on the matter. We did, however, spend a ridiculous amount of time together under the guise of work. He told ourselves that we were great friends. Friends or no, when we had a carriage ride together, alone on a cold night, we sat closer than necessary. “for warmth”. The ride was long, and we could not be seen so neither of us pulled away when our hands met on our touching thighs. His hand was miraculously warm and impulsively, I brought it to my lips. I heard his breath hitched beside me and I thought I had lost my best friend. 

I didn't lose him. I'm a lucky bastard and instead of striking me and kicking me from the vehicle, he moved to kiss my hand in return. The trouble was, he didn't care to move my hand to his mouth. Instead he moved his mouth to my hand and only when our cold noses touched did we realize how close we had gotten. We moved our still clasped hands from our lips and that is how we stayed. Noses touching, nothing between us but a few inches of air. 

The tension was damn near corporeal and it was delightful. The simple act of holding his hand and almost kissing him was exhilarating. I admitted to myself that I was attracted to him. I was falling in love with him. Martha had predicted, I hadn't listened. 

Thankfully, he felt the same towards me. If he'd had pulled away from me when I finally kissed him, I would have died at that very moment. He didn't pull away. He didn't pull away at all for the next thirty minutes. We spent the entire time kissing deeply and running our hands over each other like curious fifteen-year-olds. It warmed us up.

Martha laughed when I told her. I cried when she fell sick. She didn't get better and I mourned. I fell apart over her. James, bless him, took care of me. With every breakdown, every failed public speech, he was there. He, with his full vision, helped me find purple and pink and magenta suits to wear. Martha wouldn't have wanted me in black. 

In return for his help I nursed him through fevers even when he said I didn't have to. I never told him but my heart stopped every time he coughed. It still does. I had already list a soulmate to sickness.

I had to leave my James and go to France. There I met a gorgeous young man who gave me red, gold and silver. He made my world shine and in France, I felt younger. He made me younger. My dear Lafayette, sweet Gilbert, so open and kind. He had such stamina and libido that I had not seen the like of before. We spent our time smoking, making love, and devising or best ways to help France. 

Our children got along splendidly and his wife was charming. It felt like a family. I was often mistaken for him, and vice versa, though we could never see the resemblance. Nothing could kill a libido like being asked if you and your lover are twins. 

Still, nothing helps the libido like a flirtatious soul mate. He told me stories of seducing George Washington and I could believe them. 

Adrienne and Gilbert introduced me to all manner of new delights and encouraged me to introduce some to James upon my return to America. I dearly missed James, which is why leaning France was bittersweet. 

When I finally saw my Jemmy again, we couldn't have a true reunion until we had privacy. He promised me, “after the cabinet meeting”. I expected everything to go smoothly but my opponent had to ruin it with his cute face and all of that blue he gave me. Blue and green. Had Martha been still alive, I would have seen every color that day. 

For all of his visual appeal, his political views seemed repulsive. I could have worked through it. I knew who Alexander Hamilton was, Gilbert told me all about that storm of a man. I could have fallen for him and sought his love immediately. But all hope for that was shattered when he insulted James. 

This began the great war of sexual tension. We argued for fun. It was great at first. We challenged each other, as we were similar in intelligence but opposite in our political agendas. I looked forward to our arguments, until one lead to him shoving me and pinning me against a wall. James was there and both he and Alexander heard an accidental moan escape me. James got me out of the room before Alex could say anything about the noise.

Weeks later he did it again. He even nearly gave me an angry kiss but Washington walked in before he could. In another few weeks, we had been arguing for nearly an hour before I turned and began walking away. He shoved me to the wall again, but it was worse that time. I could feel him pressed against my back and I made another embarrassing sound. Unfortunately for Alexander, James was there. He knew of the second time and there was no excuse for a third. By then James knew he did it to hear that sounds from me and from where he was standing, it looked like Alexander rolled his hips against me. 

For the first time, I saw James angered to the point of violence. He punched Alex before hurrying me back to my office. He held me close and told me he wouldn't let Alexander treat me with hatred and lust at the same time. He told me that it was cruel of Alexander to treat his soulmate in such a way and I surprised myself by crying. 

Our cabinet debates continued. After he argued against aiding the French I went to his office to confront him. I asked if he even cared about Lafayette. We argued like we never had before and I got so mad I told him that if he'd abandon Gilbert, he should at least do him the justice odd telling him he no longer loved him. 

That was the last thing anybody said to him before he locked his office door to cut the world off. His wife sat in the hallway waiting for him but for three days he didn't come out. On the third day, Washington had convinced Eliza to go home. And the marquis arrived. 

I don't know what he said to Alexander but ours after his docking, when he lead Alex to my office, we were both ready to apologize for everything. He gave me what he had spent his three days working on. A sixty page apology letter. ,(In it, he confessed love for me. He listed reasons he loved me. When I got around to reading it, I wept). I put the pages down instead of reading it right away so that I could hug him.

It was the first gentle moment between us and it was heaven. We held each other and we kissed before we decided to bring Alex home. While Alex slept, his two eldest children convinced me and Gilbert to switch clothing and hairstyles to see if Alex would notice. For the sake of the children, we continued the prank for a week.

Alex only caught us because he found Gilbert, wearing my suit, kissing Washington. Apparently, he was very confused at the sight for a moment before he realized. 

Alex and I had to pretend to still despise one another in public, but behind closed doors, the only challenge between us was who could write the longest love letters. 

I look forward to being reunited with my wife, my children, and my little lion.


	6. Aaron Burr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron hasn't been happy in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in this chapter Aaron describes a pretty upsetting death so like,,, watch out for that I guess? It was just pretty rough even for me to write it so I feel like I should warn ya'll.  
> also: the events of this story, I'm sure you'll notice, are different from actual history. I'd tell you it's because of the impact soulmates and reincarnation have on the way people live but mostly I just like bending rules to add in more sad events

After all that I've done, I find it hard to believe my eyes when I review the letter sent to me by the Marquis de Lafayette. It is not the content of the letter that comes as a surprise. In our days in the war, he would tell us his fanciful hopes for a world that doesn't violently reject people like us. It is the fact that he has contacted me at all that fills my mind with questions. I was sure that after I killed my friend- his own soulmate!- he would want nothing to do with me. In his letter, he did not even mention the events of 1804. Still, I am not optimistic enough to believe this is forgiveness. 

I cannot deny his request, though part of me would like to. He is owed much kindness. He wishes only that I record my… love story.

The first person I ever loved was in fact not a soul mate of mine. In my years in College, I befriended Alexander Hamilton and Robert Troupe. It was the latter who captivated me. His humor made the darkest of moods dissipate. He would tell you, dear reader, that he is unattractive, but I pray you would have the sense to see that it is the basest lie he ever tells. His hair is soft curls of gold, which on some occasions contain a few little braids at his temples. His eyes are gray, but not in any mundane fashion, as they shine with warmth and kindness. He had the tendency to be shy, but by the time we had known each other a month, he was comfortable enough with Alex and myself to tell us his deepest thoughts, hopes, and dreams. 

Since he was Alexander’s roommate, he became accustomed to sleeping next to a person- so accustomed, in fact that it was difficult for him to sleep alone. By this time, I knew that Robbie was Alex’s soulmate, but I had to keep the fact a secret. For men like Robbie, who grew up thinking he was the only person he would ever meet who loved people of the same sex, the topic of soulmates is delicate. He knew that both Alexander and I enjoyed men just as much as women, but unfortunately Robbie’s self esteem was so low that he laughed at the idea of a person actually wanting him. 

So we kept our secrets as we fell further in love with him. Alexander and I vented our frustrations to each other. It was hard to be so near a person we wanted desperately but couldn’t have for fear of, honestly, scaring the poor boy. On one occasion we assisted each other in… relieving Robert-related stress. Still, Alexander gradually began spending time away with his soulmates who he actually could touch. From what I gathered, it was too difficult for him to sleep next to a person he was in love with every night.

On nights when Alexander didn’t come home, Robert went without sleep. He tried to hide his fatigue from me, in an attempt to not worry me, but I noticed his decline in energy. He let me help him by taking Alex’s place in his bed whenever it was empty. It was during this tense period of time that I first grew angry at Alexander. I accused him of all but abandoning Robbie, who at the very least was our friend. I should have predicted that when Alexander and I went to war, Robert would follow.

Please do not think that Robert is weak, or that I thought he was week in the seventies. I knew he was strong. The issue was that he was gentle. He had a habit of nurturing injured butterflies and other small creatures, which, in his gentle nature, he cried over. War was no place for a young man so pure as him. I was upset at the idea of him on a battlefield, but I never took it out on him. Unlike Alexander. He ignored Robbie for a considerable time. I was with Rob in his tent when Alex came to him seeking forgiveness. I was angry, for I had seen Rob cry six times and each of those instances was over Alexander. The words shared between Alex and I that night where vicious. Poor Robbie tried to keep the peace.

My friendship with Alex was volatile, but it was enough to spare my first soulmate’s life, at least for a while. My first soulmate was Charles Lee, a stark contrast to Robbie with his dark hair, angular features and pessimistic outlook, but they got along well. He was another man who I believe wasn’t made for war. It was never any secret that Alexander hated Charlie. In some ways like Alexander, Charlie had a tendency to run his mouth and it got him in trouble. He insulted the general too many times, I suppose, because Alex and one of his soulmates, John, came to me in search of his blood. I directed them to his tent, though I knew he was in my own. It was less than an hour after my misdirection that the two found Charlie in my arms. The embrace was clearly romantic and it was all it took for Alexander to understand and begrudgingly back out of wanting to duel him.

I met Theodosia after Charlie. She was witty and beautiful. The trouble was, her husband was a british officer. We sent pining letters when we were apart and I kept her bed warm when I was near enough. She thought Charlie was adorable and Charlie was impressed by her. 

History will tell you Charlie deserted and went missing. I feel it is necessary to dispel the notion in favor of the truth, but it is difficult to find the words required. Bear with me, as this is the first time I have disclosed this information in full. 

You already know Charlie was careless with his words. That is how four crass continental soldiers came to overhear him tell me he loved me for the first time. I never had the chance to tell him I loved him in return. Those four men took him and

They shot Charles. They shot him and they called it the lord’s work. 

They made me thank them. 

He didn’t die immediately. I was able to get him to my tent, desperate to keep him alive but reluctant to risk him being executed for the truth.

As half of the color drained slowly from my vision, I could find no words, but he seemed desperate to tell me something.

Before I tell you his last words, I need you to know something about our relationship to help you understand. We didn’t kiss often. Not as much as I would have liked to. We made love only once, but he ran from my tent in the middle of the night, so I never tried again. I was cautious with him, because I thought he was simply not quite ready for a deep relationship. I held back all the truths of how much I wanted him, how much I loved him, because I thought I was respecting his boundaries. 

As it turned out, I was a fool all along and the truth of what he thought of our relationship was tragic. As he lay dying, he smiled up at me and told me it was okay. He told me I could finally be with the people I “actually” loved without feeling bad that… that I didn’t like him as much as Theodosia. Or Robie. Or even Alex, in his mind. He had seen me console Alexander and hold him close during valley forge. Sweet Charlie put a cold hand on my cheek and said “ It’s all okay as long as the last thing I see is you. You’ll be free, but until then, stand by me, lieutenant colonel.”

One of my biggest regrets is never getting to tell him how wrong he was. I regret not being more loving when I had the chance. I should have praised him daily and I should have told him the moment I knew I fell but I was too fucking cautious.

When I lost Theodosia, It was devastating for different reasons. It was slow and terrible- seeing her deteriorate from illness. I was holding her hand when she died. With no color left in my world, I had to tell our daughter that her mother was gone. I sobbed, I held my daughter close, I shook because she was all I had left of her mother. Now I don’t even have her, because she died crossing the ocean to visit me.

Receiving that letter from Lafayette sent me down a spiral of grief and nostalgia. I long for the simpler times of our youth when we kissed haphazardly and loved uncontrollably. I miss the awkward moments, the tension, the nervous tingle when someone I loved leaned against me. That time in our lives shattered. It broke slowly as we grew up and as we lost more and more people. When the last that remained of that time slipped away in 1804, it was my fault. I pulled the trigger.


End file.
